


Amends

by RedgrenGrumboldt



Series: Weird Sisters [6]
Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-02 09:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20702246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedgrenGrumboldt/pseuds/RedgrenGrumboldt
Summary: Helga is forced to face someone from the past, someone she thought she would never see again. Someone she wronged deeply. But fate just may give her a chance to right a past wrong...





	1. Blast from the Past

Amends

Chapter 1: Blast from the Past

A.N.: This was originally going to be part of Single Issues, my series of one-shots, but I've decided to break it up into a few smaller parts, like Pairing the Spares before it. I think it's going to work better that way.

In PTS I mention that Inga is now working for the Lloyds as Rhonda's baby sister's nanny, and as soon as I wrote it, I decided that eventually, I would tell the story of just how that happened.

So, if I had to pick the absolute Helga's absolute worst moment, and I bet a lot of people would agree with me here, it would have to be "Helga's Nanny". She pretty much ruins someone's life and suffers no real consequences for it, other than her home life returning to the pre-Inga status quo and a bit of guilt, which, let's face it, probably didn't linger long because she was back to scheming to get her way pretty quickly. Yeah, even the biggest "Helga is an innocent soul and everything she does is just a reaction to her bad home life!" apologists have a hard time defending her actions in this episode. Well… in this story, Helga is actually exposed to the consequences of her actions, and is given the opportunity to make amends for them.

This story takes place during the summer between 6th and 7th grade.  
\--  
The Not-So-Great Part of Town

-HELGA-

Ah, summer. The best time of the year. Freed from the constraints of the State Institutional Correction Facility (or as some might call it, "school"), no responsibilities to deal with, seeing as my other prison, Bob's Beeper Emporium, was history.

Yeah, there's a story behind that. It involves a 20's gangster exposed to a mutagenic virus and a fight that reduced the place to a rubble-filled crater. You know, just another day. In any case, Bob still owned the land the Beeper Emporium was situated on, which he sold for a very tidy sum of money on top of the insurance payout. Rhonda's dad's real estate company now owns the land and is in the process of converting it into new retail space that'll probably be stuff like organic food stores and artisanal muffin shops and vape places and other awful gentrified millennial crap like that. Bob, meanwhile, had decided to take his payday and use it as a stake for his new Internet-based appliance company, which should take off when someone finally gets him to understand what the Internet does.

I don't really see him as much these days… my mom got custody of me in the divorce and we've been living in the boarding house with Arnold and his family. Mom's been clean for almost eight months now and the difference is like night and day. It's like she's a whole new person. The kind who's actually awake for most of the day. I see Bob every other weekend, and well, he's been trying, in that clumsy Bob way of his.

So, yeah, living with Arnold. I spend most of my formative years stalking the guy and now here I am living under the same roof. Which, by the way, is awfully convenient for makeout sessions.

Yes, Arnold and I have been together for over a year now. If you told year-ago me that we'd make it together this long, she'd've told you that you were crazy and probably decked you for good measure. Year-ago me was like that. I'm sometimes baffled by how much I've changed in the year or so since we came back from San Lorenzo. How much everything's changed. It's not just that Mom's better and Dad actually tries to pay attention to me and I have a functional love life. For example…. If you had told me I'd be going to watch MMA fights with Olga of all people? Forget decking you, I would've had you committed. Or that I'd be willingly spending time with Rhonda or, god help me, Lila. They're two of my closest friends now. Really. It's mind-boggling.

Also, I have superpowers now. But more on that later.

So, yeah, summer. No school, no job, nothing to do all day but have fun. Of course, not everything is perfect. Phoebe has abandoned me for the summer to go to math camp. That's right. Apparently the math we got force-fed the whole school year wasn't enough for her, so she went to a camp for more of it. Who does that, I ask you? Who does that?

She's not the only one away; a bunch of my friends decided to ditch the city. Nadine and Sheena signed up for some kind of eco-activist retreat; Lila and Stink-o went to Farm Camp; Gerald, Harold and Sid are at some kind of sports camp (I have a feeling Harold's folks are desperate to get him more active). Not that I'm complaining that Arnold has less competition for his attention, of course, but I like to have options, you know? I'm pretty much limited to Arnold and Rhonda right now, and she's mostly tied up with the new baby.

Well, at least I still have my little night hobby to pass the time. I mentioned the superpowers, right? Yeah, super-strength, flight, invulnerability, heat-and-cold powers, and a neat mutated body to go with them. I can look normal when I need to, but I wish I didn't have to, because my mutant body is awesome. I've got bat-wings, horns, a third eye… I could be a heavy-metal album cover. Seriously.

Now, knowing my fourth-grade past, you'd think someone like me would be on the supply side of evildoing, and… yeah, the thought of using my powers to take over the world or at least get revenge on my enemies did occur to me, I've kind of developed a football-shaped conscience over the years that just won't let me. And so, Temper was born. And other heroes too. Rhonda, Phoebe and Lila also wound up mutated and super-powered, but I'm the really important one in this story, and don't no one forget it.

Nights like this I like to patrol, sometimes alone, sometimes with one of the other girls. Not much, just a sweep around a particular neighborhood keeping an eye out for trouble. Some nights, I'll catch a liquor-store robbery, a mugging, something like that You know, fly in, punch a guy, simple stuff. Other nights, not much of anything, just a chance to air my wings out.

Tonight, I hit the jackpot early. A bunch of street punks assaulting a homeless woman near the shelter on Fourth. The kind of thing that makes me feel like maybe this one time I don't have to be super-careful not to permanently cripple someone.

I'll give these guys credit; they actually tried to put up a fight against me. Of course, I immediately took all that credit away for the whole "trying to assault a defenseless woman" thing, but still, you had to admit that they didn't back down when someone who could actually fight took them on. The fight didn't last long, of course, because really, what could they do to me?

And so, a couple of minutes later, al of them were either unconscious or fled. And yeah, I was a little rougher than normal; I think I broke at least one bone, and I twisted another's arm so bad he actually peed himself from the sheer pain. A good night for yours truly.

The target, a blonde woman who looked to be in her mid-to-late 30s, had taken refuge in the corner of the alley when I'd arrived. "Hey," I said. "You okay back there? Are you hurt or anything?"

The woman got up. "No, I am all right. You arrived before zey vere able to do anything."

I froze the moment I heard the voice. Memories bubbled up, of one of the most genuinely unforgivable things I'd ever done, something I thought I had forced out of my mind permanently.

A glance at the woman confirmed it.

Inga Perlmutter.

My nanny.

My shame.

"Um… that's good…" I said, consciously forcing my voice to sound deeper than normal. "You, uh… you stay safe now." And without waiting for a reply, I launched myself into the sky and flew away as fast as I could.

What was she doing here? She was supposed to be in Switzerland on her sister's dairy farm! Why was she outside a homeless shelter back here? Had something happened? Had what I'd d- had news of what happened followed her all the way back home? Oh god… did she recognize me? No, that's impossible, I look totally different in my mutant form… but then again, I could never fool her, could I? What if she did know it was me? Did she still hold a grudge over wha- over the past? If not… well, why the hell wouldn't she? What was wrong with her?

Before I'd even realized it I'd flown all the way back to the boarding house. I landed on the roof and fished my key out (thank Cthulhu Bridget put pockets in these super-suits), letting myself in.

Arnold had still been up when I passed his room, where he was deep in the latest volume of the Cycle of Dragonbane series that I'd gotten him hooked on. He poked his head up out of the epic fantasy doorstopper and flashed me a smile. "You're back early tonight," he said.

"Yeah, I'm early tonight!" I snapped back. "Not like I'm on a schedule or anything! Sheesh, what's with the third degree? If I wanna knock off from crimefighting early, I'll knock off from crimefighting early! This city's got a police force for a reason, Football-head! I don't need to take care of every two-bit snot-nosed punk out there!"

"…all I said was…"

"Defensive? I'm not being defensive! You're being defensive! No regrets for shameful past actions clawing at my conscience, no sirree! I'm totally at peace with my past, present and future!"

"…well, good, I'm glad that's all cleared up," Arnold replied sarcastically.

"Yes. Yes it is. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to my room, get out of this costume, and be totally okay with myself, and no, that is not a euphemism for anything, so get your mind out of the gutter."

"Well, I dunno… now that you've brought it up…" Arnold replied wryly. I had to give him credit, he was becoming a lot more comfortable with my very inappropriate sense of humor. Damn it, now I felt guilty for snapping at him, as if there wasn't enough of that to go around already.

Heaving a deep sigh, I turned back to him. "Sorry, Arnold. I… kinda have a lot on my mind tonight."

"You know, something told me that might be the case. Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No…. I really, really don't." I replied.

"Well," he said… "Okay, if that's what you want…"

No, dammit, insist! Otherwise, I'm never gonna talk about it! is what I wanted to say, but the words lodged in my throat like a half-dissolved cough drop. I'd trained my boy far too well. Instead, I accepted a good-night kiss on the cheek and retreated to the suite I shared with my mom. Miriam was working the night shift for the summer, so I was pretty much alone with my thoughts.

I traded my costume for my custom-fit-for-a-mutant-body PJs and crawled into bed, checking my tablet for something to binge-watch to get my mind off my night.

One half-season of GWOG: The Gorgeous Women of Grappling Story later, I'd more or less managed to convince myself not to worry. After all… I'd just saved her life, right? Sure, I'd ruined it too, but the scales were balanced now, so it was all whatever, right?

I mean…. odds were, I was probably never going to see her again, anyway, right? So why worry about it? Right?


	2. Out of Sight, Out of My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Helga tries to ignore epiphanies

Chapter 2

Out of Sight… Out of my Mind?

The name's Pataki. Helga Pataki. I'm a sleuth. A gumshoe. A shamus. A bunch of other cliché'd synonyms. When you wanna find someone, you come to me. When you wanna catch someone doing something they're not supposed to, you come to me. When you want someone who narrates their own life, you come to me.

I was working a case in the southeast district. A place so seedy you could roll bagels in it. I'd been hired by a foreign lady, name o' Inga Perlmutter. She was a cool customer, worked as a nanny until her reputation took a dive and she was forced to hightail it back to the old country. Apparently, that didn't work out so well, because she was back in town. She'd hired me to find out just who it was who wrecked her good name. She didn't have much money, but lucky for her I'm not picky.

I didn't have many leads to start with, but a little chat session with Sid the Stool Pigeon netted me a trail. I thanked him and warned him to keep his nose clean, which was no easy task with a honker like his. I followed the trail to a second story walkup.

The place couldn't be more of a dive if Jacques Cousteau owned it. The halls were saturated with the smells of black mold, sour milk, and good old-fashioned rat urine. You didn't live in a place like this unless you had no other choice.

Sid's info had led me to a fella name of Wolfgang. I wasn't surprised; if something smelled in the mean streets of Hillwood, it was a safe bet that Wolfgang had a hand in it. His last known location was right here, in this building, Apartment 2B. There was no way to tell which apartment was which, as none of the doors were labeled (though faded squares suggested they once had been, but someone had pried off the brass nameplates to hock them for whatever meager high they could buy. Thankfully, my gal Friday Phoebe had pulls up a floor plan for the building.

I knocked on the door. "Pataki here. Got some questions for ya." No answer. My guy was either lost in dreamland or, more likely, methland. Well, if he wasn't going to open the door from the inside, I was gonna have to find my way in. Luckily, I have a reliable key attached to my ankle.

The door proved to be every bit as flimsy as it looked. It easily gave way to my foot and flung open, exposing me to a new smell, one I was all too familiar with, the smell of death.

There, in the middle of the ratbag apartment, a corpse lay in a pool of its own congealing blood. I recognized her right away… she was the same woman who had shown up at my office last night to hire me.

I approached the body, trying to determine just how long it had lain there. Long enough for the blood to start to stink, at any rate. I was going in for a closer look, trying to get a better sense of how the dame had met her end when I heard the sound of footsteps behind me. The sound that came from a couple of pairs of flat feet.

"Hands up, and back away from the body," a familiar voice rang out. I did exactly as he said, 'cause it was pretty clear I'd been set up, and I was one itchy trigger finger away from winding up in the Big Mystery Section in the Sky. "Now turn around, slowly."

I turned to face my unexpected guests. One was a tall black man who until recently had sported a hairdo so tall it would put Marge Simpson to shame, until he'd been forced to shave it off on a bet. Seeing as I was the one he'd made the bet with, , it was no surprised he wasn't the biggest fan of me. I had a feeling he only tolerated me because he was sweet on my secretary.

"Looks like Fuzzy Slippers' tip was on the money, Shortman," he said to his partner. I had history with him, too. Smoochin' history. Shortman, as his name implied, was a head shorter than me, but what he lacked in height he made up for in head width. That noggin of his wouldn't look out of place if Austin Davis was flinging it downfield. And yet… he had a smile that could make even someone has hardboiled as me's yolk go runny.

"This ain't what it looks like," I protested. "This is a frame job! A total set-up!"

"That's what they all say," Johanssen retorted with a self-satisfied smirk, taking out his handcuffs.

"She was my client! Why would I rub out my own client? It doesn't make sense!"

"Liar!" a German-accented voice called out.

Impossible as it was, I knew who the voice had come from. Still, I risked a glance back.

Inga, dead as she was, had rolled over and was sitting up, blood still slowly oozing from the gaping hole in her chest. "It vas you did zis," she said in a sepulchral voice. "It vas you who held ze gun! It vas you who pulled the trigger! It vas you who killed me!"

"No!" I said as Johanssen eagerly capped the cuffs on me! "She's lying!"

"It vas you!" she repeated as I was dragged off, a look of shame and pity in Shortman's eyes. "It vas you! IT VAS YOU!"  
\--  
I awoke with a blood-curdling scream.

"Helga?" My mother called from the next room. "Is everything all right?"

"No, mom… just… a bad dream, is all," I answered.

It had been four days since… the incident. I'd mostly put it out of my mind, but it didn't take Freud to tell me that the thought was still lingering in my subconscious. And staying up late to watch The Big Sleep with Grandpa last night probably didn't help. Ugh, no more late-night noir for me.

Shifting to "Helga classic", as I called my human form, I grabbed my robe and headed for the shower; luckily, I'd managed to sleep late enough to avoid the morning rush, so there wasn't a line. The joys of summer, I suppose.

Once fresh and clean, I dressed in a pink and white T-Shirt and jeans (the pink dress had served me well, but all things come to an end, and it had been time for a change), and tied back my hair with my trademark bow (ditto to the pigtails), then headed downstairs to see if I could scare up anything fun. At the very least, I could look forward to quality time with my boyfriend.  
\--  
"Whattaya mean, fishing trip?"

"Just what I said," Stella repeated. "Phil, Miles and Arnold went on a fishing trip. You, know, grandfather/father/son bonding stuff."

"It be the white whale they seek," elaborated Pookie, dessed as a sea captain. "Him what took me leg. And me hand. And me eye. And most of me organs."

"Uh… Pookie, you have all of those," I reminded her.

"I never said I didn't get 'em back," she replied. "But it be the principle of the thing."

"Well, that's lovely," I grumbled. "He didn't even say goodbye to me."

"They left at four in the morning," Stella replied. "Arnold didn't want to wake you up. He figured you would take it badly."

"…well, can't say he's wrong about that," I admitted.

"It's okay, honey…" Miriam reassured. "Maybe you and I could do something together? Oh… no, wait, I'm on the day shift. Oh, maybe you can come in an help me with the back-to-school displays!"

I rolled my eyes. Be gentle, Helga, she's trying, she really is. "Well, gee mom, providing free child labor while being harshly reminded of the fleeting nature of my summer freedom sounds wonderful, buuuut I think I'm gonna pass." There. That was gentle sarcasm.

"Oh, well, I hadn't thought of it like that," she responded.

Eh, so, maybe Arnold's gone for the day. I still have one friend in town I can do stuff with an not be alone with my thoughts…  
\--  
"Whattaya mean, you have to babysit?"

"I mean, Mom had to be somewhere today, so it's on me to watch the baby for the next eight hours," Rhonda replied apologetically, cradling her month-old sister gently. "Not that I mind the least bit, of course." She leaned in close. "Rhia's such a good baby, aren't you, Rhia. Aren't you."

"You know, she doesn't understand a word you say," I said. "Babies are stupid. They don't know anything." I leaned in, mimicking Rhonda's baby-talk voice." You're just a little idiot, aren't you. Aren't y-OW!" Rhia had reached out and grabbed my nose. Hard.

"Looks like she isn't so stupid after all, is she," Rhonda teased, chuckling. "You better watch what you say around her."

"Yeah, yeah…" I muttered, rubbing my nose. Gotta give the little rugrat credit, she had one hell of a grip for an infant. "What kinda name is 'Rhiannon' for a baby, anyway?"

"I think my mom's just a big Stevie Nicks fan. If there's some kind of involved backstory for the name, I don't know it."

"Why do you have to watch her, anyway? Doesn't your mom have a nanny?"

"Don't ask," Rhonda said, shaking her head. "She had one, but she had to fire her."

"Oh, really… how come?"

"She caught her stealing the silverware." She sighed. "Shame too… she was really good with the Rhia. Who would've thought she'd turn out to be a thief?"

"Who woulda thought she'd turn out to be a thief?" echoed Big Bob's voice in my head. "Well… you know… these things happen, right?" I said, suddenly uncomfortable. "People do bad stuff and they gotta face the consequences!"

"I guess," she said, shrugging. "You know, maybe we can't go anywhere, but you can hang out here, use the pool… it is a pretty hot day, y'know?"

I considered it. A dip would be nice, but the uncomfortable feeling just wouldn't go away. The situation was just way too much like the one with Inga, only in my case, she was innocent. And for all my talk about having to face consequences… I never really had. I just went back to the same miserable life I'd had before… and even that had eventually ended. These days, I had parents who paid attention to me, a decent relationship with my sister, more than one real friend, even the boy I'd pined after… even freakin' super-powers… and did I really deserve any of it?

"I, uh… well, no, I really couldn't just have fun at your house while you had to take care of the baby," I finally replied.

"It's fine, really. I could just out there with you… well, no, that'd probably be a bad idea bringing Rhia anywhere near a pool… "

"Yeah, there's the problem right there. I'd just feel like a leech. Thanks anyway, Princess. I'll just go and find something else to do."  
\--  
"Whattaya mean, you're closed?"

"Sorry," the guy standing in front of the movie theater apologized. "Turned out our last shipment of popcorn was infested with fly larvae and now the theater's full of 'em. We're waiting for the fumigator to get here, but after that, we're probably gonna be closed for the rest of the week. Last time we order from 'Honest Vic's Discount Corn Outlet', I tell ya that."

"Well, that's just great." I'd tried five different ways to distract myself since leaving Rhonda's, and all of them had been a bust. The arcade was experiencing a power outage, the pool was too crowded, the roller rink was hosting a private party, and the track wouldn't let me in because I was "too young" and it wasn't "legal" for me to be there. Spoilsports.

With nothing left to do but wander aimlessly, I found myself doing just that, idly looking into windows I passed as my guilt continued to gnaw at me. The sights I saw did nothing to help. First, there was a German delicatessen with a display of pumpernickel bread and gooseberry jam; this was followed by one of those craft stores that all the grandmas shop at boasting a sale on needlepoint kits. Just to drive home that the world was out to get me, the next storefront was a costume shop, and the mannequin in the window was sporting a tradition Swiss maid outfit.

"Okay, fine! Clearly, the world is trying to tell me something. Well, too bad. You're not going to get me. It's not happening! Ya hear me! Helga G. Pataki isn't gonna fall for some karmaic guilt-trip!"

…and everyone was staring at me now.

"…and that was a scene from my one-woman show, 'Girl on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown!' Thank you, you've been a wonderful audience!"

"Weirdo," muttered a disheveled-looking man holding a "THE END OF THE WORLD IS NEAR" sign before moving on.

Get a grip, girl, I told myself. There's no such thing as mystic forced from beyond sending people messages. That's crazy talk. That kinda thing just doesn't happen in real life. It's all just a crazy string of coincidences.

Now that that was settled, I resumed my walk, reassured that none of this really meant anything. It was probably just low blood sugar. Yeah, that was it. Some nachos would clear that right up. I just had to wait until the light changed…

A bus advertising Webflix's The Nanny's Diary zoomed by. Followed by another one sporting an ad for a presume called Deception, and a third promoting a movie called False Charges.

"Oh, COME ON!" I called out to no one in particular. Forget it. I do believe in karma, I do, I do, I do believe in karma…

Fine. I admitted it. The guilt was crawling around inside me and it wasn't going to go away unless I dealt with it. After nachos.

I walked along, not really paying attention as I tried to appease my dark thoughts with tortilla chips and oily melted cheese. Eventually, the nachos ran out and I finally decided to actually see where it was I had walked to. It turned out to be a modest professional building, its occupants mostly doctors and lawyers. In fact… it was a very familiar one.

"Okay, karma," I said. "You win this one."  
\--  
It had been a while since I'd lain on this couch ("lain?" Is that really the right word? I'm pretty sure it's grammatically correct, and yet it feels off). I hadn't really had any emotional crises for some time. Plus…

"You know… technically, I'm not a PS118 student anymore," I reminded my host. "So I'm kinda… no longer your patient."

"I won't tell the school board if you won't," joked Dr. Bliss. "There's no rule that says we can't just talk on our own time. Now… I'm guessing there might be something bothering you."

"Gee, what gave it away?" I asked.

"It might've been how you dropped into my office in the middle of the day on no notice asking if I was free. Actually, it was a very slow day and I was planning on knocking off early to see a movie."

"Eh, don't bother, the theater's infested with popcorn flies. Anyway… it all started around two anda half years ago when my mom got a DUI and had to do community service. So, Bob, of course, couldn't possibly have picked up the slack around the house himself, of course not, so he hires a nanny. And let me tell ya, this lady was real old country, looked like she just stepped off a cocoa box. And of course, she's just perfect at everything, cooking, housekeeping, and especially driving me up the freakin' wall! She was incredible at that!"

"Mmmhmm," Dr. Bliss nodded; for someone who was "just talking", she was acting an awful lot like a psychiatrist… but then, that was kind of why I'd come here in the first place. "What was it about her that annoyed you, exactly?"

"What didn't? It would've been fine if she just cooked and cleaned and did all the stuff nobody wanted to bother with, but she got it all in her head that she had to give me 'structure' and 'discipline' and all that crap…"

"Well, those aren't always necessarily bad things, within reason…"

"And was making me dress like like a rejected Von Trapp daughter 'within reason'? How about following me around to school, not letting me play baseball with the other kids, forcing me to take up freakin' needlepoint…."

"Mmm, yes…. I think I'm starting to see your side of things here. Structure is one thing, but forcing someone to be someone they don't want to be is quite another. I remember when I was your age, my father made me take up the violin. The lessons were like torture. Going over the scales, over and over again. I hated it. Every minute of it. I constantly begged my dad not to make me go, but he wouldn't listen. Finally, one day, I 'accidentally' broke my violin. Of course, I pretended to be really upset about it, but I don't think my dad was fooled for a minute. Especially since he grounded me for two months for it."

"Wow, harsh," I said. "Yeah, I kinda did the same thing… I started faking little mess-ups around the house, hoping that my dad would fire her for repeatedly screwing up, but the sly girl was always one step ahead of me. Finally, I went for the nuclear option. I… did something really, really messed up."

"And… that would be…"

"I took Bob's favorite belt buckle and hid it in her room. I figured there was no way Bob would ever keep a thief around. Naturally, he canned her immediately, and I'm thinking, home free. Everything's coming up Helga."

"But it didn't, did it," Dr. Bliss said neutrally, ever sworn not to judge.

"Well, duh, otherwise I wouldn't be here, would it?" Sheesh, was this couch always so uncomfortable? "I thought I was clear and free, but I started having these dreams about finder her in the park, broke, homeless, unable to get a job because I'd ruined her reputation, fighting pigeons for scraps of bread… Really vivid too, none of that weird dream logic and everything being a little off…"

"I figure it didn't take a masters class in dream analysis to figure that one out."

"No kidding. Well, y'know, I figure, it wouldn't hurt to just take a look in the park and ease my mind. Only… she was sitting in the park, her reputation was ruined, nobody would hire her… and yet… she wasn't angry. Even after I confessed, she wasn't angry. It would've been so much easier if she was, you know? That would make sense. But she wasn't. Instead, she says to me 'You're such an angry girl, Helga, and you won't let anyone help you, so you must live with your unhappiness." And I'm like, no, get mad at me, yell at me, do something I can understand, something I can take, not this… mix of quiet disapproval and pity.

"That was the last I saw of her. A couple of weeks later, I get a letter from her, telling me how she's back home in the Old Country, living on her sister's dairy farm, asking me how I'm doing… you could've looked at the wording as if it was kind of passive-aggressive, but I really don't think it was. I… didn't get that sense. I never wrote her back, of course. I was too ashamed. And… that was that. My life went on as normal and, eventually, I put the whole incident out of my mind." I looked at her, looking for any sign of disapproval. "Pretty messed up, huh."

"Well… as you know, this is a judgement-free zone," she replied. "But… yeah, that was pretty bad. So… I'm guessing there's a reason why you're suddenly bringing this up now, after all this time?"

"Can't put one past you, can I, doc? Well, you know my little.. nighttime hobby, right?" She nodded. "Well, a few nights ago, I come upon an assault in progress near the homeless shelter, and… it's her. She's suddenly here in the city and I don't know what to do about it. I never really thought about her because well, it seems like she was better off back home anyway, so I didn't have to worry about any negative consequences. But now, she's back! Why is she back? Why was she hanging around the homeless shelter? What if I really did ruin her life after all?"

"Well… you did say she didn't hold a grudge against you…"

"I hold a grudge against me! I mean… I want to think that I've become a better person… not a terrific person, but I do more good than bad, at least. But… suddenly, this walking, talking reminder of the awful person I used to be has dropped back into my life, and it's like… have I really changed? Or am I still the old Helga?"

"Helga," Dr. Bliss said. "I think what you're really dealing with here is uncertainty. I think it would be in your best interest to confront it head on."

She was right. I needed to deal with this. After all… if I didn't, I would never really know. She could be fine. Maybe she's just visiting someone, or maybe she just works in the neighborhood. Better yet, maybe it wasn't even her, just some other blonde lady with a German accent. It's not like there's a shortage of those.

I sat up determined. "Thanks, doc. Now I know exactly what to do."

"Good, Helga. I'm glad you were able to reach a-"

"I'm gonna sneak around and spy on her to make sure she's okay! That'll ease this guilty conscience of mine!"

"Actually, I'm not sure that would be a good idea…"

"No, of course not, you're right. What was I thinking? I'll need a disguise first."

"Helga, it seems to me that this is just avoiding the problem…"

"Exactly! This way, I avoid the problem! Thanks, doc! You're a genius!"

"No, I… oh… well, good luck…"

I skipped out of her office, feeling confident. Once again, I had a brilliant plan. There was no way this would backfire…  
\--  
A.N.: [Arrested Development narrator] It would.


	3. Stake-Out (Medium-Rare)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Helga tries to solve her problems the only way she knows how to... with a zany scheme!

Chapter 3

Stake-Out (Medium Rare)

Lloyd Mansion (the next day)

-HELGA-

"C'mon, where is it?" I asked as I rummaged in Rhonda's massive closet.

"Where is what?" she asked. "You didn't tell me anything, you just pushed past me and ran up to my room like your life depended on it. Oh, and 'good morning.'"

"Uh huh, whatever… You know… that wig. The one you wore after that pirate scalped you back in San Lorenzo."

"Wig?" Rhonda laughed nervously. "I've never worn a wig!"

"Yeah, and I've never punched Brainy. C'mon, where are you hiding it…"

"Okay… fine… I may have briefly resorted to a designer-crafted hairpiece to cover up some short-lived problems."

"You mean the gaping bald-spot on top of your head."

"*sigh* Yes, the gaping bald spot on top of my head. But I don't keep it in this closet…" She beckoned. "Follow me."

"You have another closet?"

"Helga… this is me we're talking about. I have another three closets." She led several doors down. "There's the winter closet, the formal closet, and… my special closet." She opened the door.

I took it all in. It was definitely not what I'd been expecting. This was stuff that wouldn't be out of place in a J-Pop star's closet. Crazy outfits as far as the eye could see. And wigs. Lots and lots of wigs.

"This… doesn't seem like you," I said. "Is this a Chun-Li outfit?"

"I've been kinda getting into cosplay in the last year or so," she said, blushing a bit. "I have a separate Instagraph under a fake name for that kind of stuff."

"Right, can't let it get out that you're actually interesting, I know the drill," I remarked.

"So, anyway," she said, wanting to move on, "the wig you're looking for is this one," she said, handing me a straight-haired shoulder-length black model.

"Yeah, that's what I wanted before I knew you could stock a small wig store!" I said, eyeing an electric-blue bob. "Ooh, I want that one. Or the long wavy green one. Or this one with the pink pigtails!"

"…I do a lot of anime stuff on my cosplay account," admitted Rhonda. "Anyway, what's all this for? What's the scheme?"

"Scheme? Why does it always have to be a scheme? Can't a girl just try out a new look?"

She grinned a bit too evilly. "Now why didn't you say so! I've always wanted an excuse to give you a full makeover. Now, let me get my kit, and we can start by determining whether you're a summer or an autumn…"

"…Okay! Fine! I want to spy on someone!"

"Oho, now we're talking," she replied with a satisfied smirk. "Sorry I had to play the makeover card, but sometimes getting to the truth takes a few dirty tricks. So what are we talking about? Someone trying to move in on ya' boy?"

"First… don't talk street. You can't pull it off. Second… this has nothing to do with Arnold. Not everything's about him, y'know. I got other stuff going on."

"All right. So… who is it we're following?"

"We?"

"I'm soooooo bored!" she whined. "Nadine's off saving the environment, so I'm down a girlfriend, and pretty much all my other friends are away except for you and Arnold, and you two are together most of the time and that just makes me a third wheel! I need something to do, even if it's just helping you with your creepy stalker thing!"

Ugggh… I had planned on keeping this whole thing a solo affair, but I had to admit that, being down a Phoebe myself, letting someone else in does give me a fall guy- I mean, some backup in case things go south. Besides, it keeps her from whining any more than she does…

…no, really, I do like her, but she's a bit much sometimes, you know?

"Fine…. You can come along… but remember, this is spying, so the watch word here is… inconspicuous."

"Got it. Inconspicuous."  
\--  
"What part of inconspicuous was it that you didn't understand, exactly?"

Rhonda adjusted the lapels of her fire-engine red jacket. She also wore a matching wide-brimmed hat, a curly platinum-blonde wig, and designer sunglasses. "What? You said we were spying. This is a spy outfit."

"You look like Carmen Sandiego had an accident at the bleach factory. Gahhh… well, too late to change now." I had gone with a much more sensible, if I do say so myself, trenchcoat and fedora ensemble, plus the black wig and much cheaper sunglasses,

The two of us got off the bus in the downtown district. "I could've had our driver take us," Rhonda said.

"…you're seriously not getting this 'not attracting attention' stuff, are you," I groaned. "A limo in this part of town? Do you really think nobody would notice that?"

"Okay, okay, point made… although you're not exactly dressed to blend in yourself. Trenchcoat on a hot summer day? Really?"

Okay, to be fair, I was beginning to regret that choice. I was stewing in my own juices. But habit is habit, and this is my sneaking outfit.

"Okay, so this where I last saw her,"

"Oh, near the Fourth Avenue homeless shelter?"

"Yeah, by the f- wait, how the heck do you know where this is?"

"Oh, sometimes, Patty and I volunteer here on weekends, y'know, helping with kitchen prep, I fix clothing for them…"

"…damn, you actually surprise me sometimes, Princess."

"What? Why is it so surprising that I have a philanthropic side?"

"It's just… you know… this whole pint-sized Kardashian vibe you put out. But…. It's actually really cool that you do that kind of thing."

"Yeah… well… you know… I kinda was p- was po- was in that situation for a little while, so, I got some perspective on it. And, like… if there's something I can do to help someone in that situation feel better, I guess it makes me feel better about myself, and, y'know… having it so good."

"Right, yeah, let's get back on task." Okay, so she helps the homeless, while I might've made someone homeless… no time to dwell on that now. I needed to make sure that I didn't make someone homeless. That this was all a case of mistaken identity.

"Okay, so, who exactly are we looking for?"

"Oh, just someone I used to know… blonde woman, around 35, German accent…"

"Ooooh, accents, cool. It really does feel like we're in a spy movie!," Rhonda said excitedly. "So why are we looking for this woman?"

"Let's just say… I did something to her that I really shouldn't have and I thought it all blew over and I didn't have to worry about it but it turns out maybe I do but I need to make sure first. And that's all you need to know right now."

"I'm thinking that's probably not true but I'm not going to press you any further." We took up a vantage point across the street behind some garbage cans. From here, we'd be able to see anyone go in and out. We settled in for a long, boring wait. That part usually gets left out of spy movies.

Hours passed. Rhonda's attention span eventually floundered and she turned to her phone. Even I was beginning to lose my patience and was wondering if I should just pack it up.

I was actually starting to feel myself nodding off when the door opened and a blonde woman exited the building. She was wearing what looked like a waitress's uniform instead of the classic Swiss peasant dress she favored back then, but otherwise, it looked exactly like her. I elbowed Rhonda. "Wake up Princess.

"Aw, I was this close to beating Level 93 of Sugar Smash!"

"Never mind that! I have eyes on the Package."

"I thought we were looking for a person."

"We are, that's just spy talk for the person we're supp-"

"Duh, of course I know that! I'm just messing with you."

"…oh, right." Ugh, I keep forgetting that she's not the brain-dead mallrat she comes off as. Tends to happen when you're constantly stuck in your own head… you form these images of people and you get thrown off when they don't match up to that image. Gotta watch that. "C'mon, let's follow her."

It wasn't that much of a journey… just a couple of blocks. We watched her enter Stavros's Diner, a run-down looking place on the corner. "I guess she works there, given the uniform and all…"

"Oh, good… so, she's employed, good to know, I guess I- I guess everything's fine… I guess we can go."

"Wait." Rhonda glared at me "I did not blow my entire day so that you can just drop the whole investigation without telling me just what it was all about. Now, just who is this woman and what did you do to her?"

"It's none of your business, Princess. Now let's get outta here. This coat's like a damn Dutch oven. I'm being slowly steamed to death."

I tried to push past but she planted herself firmly. "Now, you know normally I'm perfectly content to let you gloss over all your crap, but not this time. This is clearly something that's eating away at you and as your emergency backup best friend, you are not leaving until you spill."

"Outta the way, Rhondaloid…"

"Nope. There's one way outta-"

"Fine! I framed her for robbery! I got her fired, ruined her reputation to the point she had to leave the freakin' country, and now apparently she's living at a shelter and working at a crappy diner for whatever tips she can scrape up all because of me. There, you satisfied?"

She just stood there, jaw hanging open. Oh, great. I actually rendered her speechless. Who knew such a thing was possible?

"…okay, maybe I should start from the beginning. You remember that time my dad hired a nanny?"

"I think so… oh, that's why she kinda looks familiar! …wait, THAT'S what happened to her?"

I nodded and eventually the whole story just sorta unspooled. When it was done, I looked her over for signs of judgement. None seemed to be forthcoming. "Well?" I prompted.

"Just… processing..." she said neutrally. "It's kind of a lot of story to take in."

"Just say it. It's messed up. It's super messed up."

"Well, obvy, but I don't know what my telling you that is gonna do. I mean, you clearly know what you did was wrong, right?"

"Well, doi, Princess, but if it was so wrong, how come she's the one who's paying for it? I got off scott-free!"

"So, what is it you want from me, divine justice? 'Cause looks aside, I'm no goddess… though I can supply a lightning bolt or two if you'd like."

"Just tell me what to do, okay? I'm trying to do the right thing here, but I happen to be cursed with the moral compass of the love child of Richard Nixon and Al Capone! All my impulses are wrong! Normally I'd go to Arnold, but he's out on a fishing trip who knows where, and, well… you're not exactly a substitute, but… and it's killing me to say this…" I took a deep breath. "You're… a better person than I am."

"Okay, we both know that's bull."

"Is it? I had no idea you did charity stuff, and given how much you love to talk about yourself you'd think you'd be bragging about it but you don't. You just… do it, and you don't make a big deal out of it."

"So? You do tons of good things you don't broadcast."

"…not…. tons, exactly. The superhero stuff is just my way of getting out my aggression in a socially acceptable manner, really. And anything else… I'm not sure I really do it because it's the right thing or because Arnold is acting as my conscience."

Rhonda sighed. "And to think I thought this friendship worked so well because we're both equally awful people. Now you're suddenly looking up to me to be the paragon of morality and frankly, that is absolutely terrifying." She took a deep breath. "Well, if you really want to know what I think… You need to actually face her. Talk to her. Find out just why she's here. You need closure most of all."

I paused to think about it. She was right… I absolutely had to know for sure what happened to her in Switzerland, why she was back here, and to do that I had to get the story directly from her.

…now, how could I get around that?

"Okay," I finally said. "Here's what we're gonna do…"  
\--  
-RHONDA-

"You have more surveillance equipment than any twelve-year-old should have," I said. "Which, by the way… is no surveillance equipment."

"Shut up and hold still so I can get this microphone on you," Helga said, fastening the piece of equipment to my collar. "Now, let's go over this plan again."

"All right," I said. "I'm a reporter for a human interest podcast that focuses on the lives of random Hillwoodians, and I'm there to get her story."

"Yep. All the while, I'm hearing everything on this earpiece. Meanwhile, yours is connected to receive whatever I say into my mic. Got that?"

"…okay, I'm just going to say it, this seems like a very convoluted way to avoid facing having to talk to her."

"Yes! Exactly! I avoid having to talk to her! Everything works out!"

"…that's not what I… agghhh…" It was no use. Helga was determined to get around this any way she could when obviously, the only way it was going to be resolved was directly. But… eh, I got to practice my acting. "You are so lucky I'm really bored today."

I entered Stavros' diner. Mercifully, the place looked a lot better than it did on the outside… I was expecting a roach nest, but it was reasonably clean and well-appointed. I sat down at the table, and waited for Inga to approach, while summoning my character.

"Good afternoon, miss… vhat vill you be having today? Ze special is a classic cheeseburger served vith our house fries and a small salad, $4.95."

I took a deep breath, mentally conditioning myself to lower my voice an octave and add a bit of a Mid-Atlantic accent. "Just coffee for now, please. Cream, two Nutra-Lows."

"Very well, I shall have zat for you presently. Johnny! One cup o' light mud with two shakes of sweet science!"

All right, the ice was broken. I waited for her to bring back my coffee before I broached the subject.

"Here you go, dear," she said. "If you vant anything else, let me know."

"Actually," I said. "If I could have a moment of your time? My name is Brenda Markowsky. I represent the nationally-respected podcast 'Humanoids of Hillwood.' Each week, we interview a random Hillwoodian in an effort to explore the rich cultural and personal diversity of this city. Perhaps you've heard it before?"

"I'm afraid not." she said. "I do not really have the time or the means to enjoy such things."

"Well, in any case, perhaps you would like to share your story with our listeners? All our stories are kept anonymous, of course."

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "I am just a simple vaitress. I doubt anyone vould find my story interesting."

"That's what my interview from two weeks ago said," I replied. "It turned out she was the maid on duty at the Watergate Hotel the night of the break-in." Okay, so I made that up. But that's acting. You have to make the lie believable.

"Vell… all right… I vas born in Switzerland in 1981. I grew up on the family dairy farm. It vas a simple life, yadda yadda yadda…" No, she didn't actually say "yadda yadda yadda," that was just my mind sorta switching to autopilot as she went on about her boring farm upbringing. I nodded and "mmm-hmmed" occasionally while waiting for her to get to the interesting stuff.

"Eventually, I discovered that my true passion lay in childcare. I have alvays had a desire to help young children reach their potential. It vas for this reason that I undertook training to become a professional governess."

"And, if I may ask, what kind of training do you have to get for that sort of thing?" I didn't particularly care, but my character did, and that was what was important. I continued and listened as she went on about her training, her decision to move to America, and her history working for various families.

Okay, now it was time to make her get to the point. "So… I can't help but ask… if you were classically trained as a nanny, why are you working at this diner? Has it become difficult to find employment in today's economy?"

"I… don't want to say, exactly…"

"I'd like to remind you again, that all stories on Humanoids of Hillwood are completely anonymous. You don't have to worry about anyone connecting this to you."

"Very well. The sad truth was… I vas forced to return to my homeland after my career vas destroyed by a scandal. I… vas accused of stealing from my employer. My reputation was destroyed and I could no longer remain in ze country on my current visa."

"Accused… but, you didn't actually commit the crime, did you?" I asked.

Inga sighed deeply. "Ze truth is… yes, I vas guilty."

"WHAT THE F***?" I heard Helga scream into my earpiece, making me wince involuntarily. And while I didn't say it out loud, I had to agree with her. Why on Earth was Inga confessing to a crime she'd been falsely accused of?

"I'm sorry?" Inga said, noticing my reaction. "Did I just hear someone say-"

"OH, just feedback from my equipment," I lied. "It sometimes picks up stray noise, cel phone crosstalk, radio stations, that kind of thing. No big deal, happens all the time. Now, let me get this straight…. You are confessing to stealing from your employer?"

"That is correct," she said. "I stole his prized diamond-studded gold belt buckle. I vas going to sell it because… I vas addicted to crack."

"OH, COME ON!" Helga shouted, bursting into the diner. "That's a load of bull and you know it! You're as innocent as the day is long!"

Inga looked back and forth, confused. "Just vhat is going on here?" she said, a bit of the stern nanny creeping back into her voice.

"Why?" Helga said. "Why would you lie about being framed? You had nothing to gain from it! Why wouldn't you tell anyone I did it?" Holy crap… was she on the verge of tears? Helga? "You could have kept your job. You could've stayed. You wouldn't've had to go back… you wouldn't have had to go through whatever forced you to come back here… you wouldn't be broke, hopeless, forced to work here… no offense to Stavros, I'm sure he runs a very respectable establishment…."

'Helga," Inga said, stopping her. "I take it there is no such thing as a 'Humanoids of Hillwood' podcast?"

"Yeah… you got me," Helga said, removing her hat and wig. "This is a friend of mine. I put her up to this because I was too chicken to face you myself."

"I see," she said, nodding.

"You know, I really should go," I said, "seeing as this is probably a very personal conversation you two are having… I'll just go next door to that, um…" I tried to recall exactly what had been next door, "that, um… Russian novelty store! You know I'm all about my Matryoshka dolls!" I glanced over at Helga, who stood there nervously. "I mean… if it's okay…"

"It's okay, Rhonda," Helga replied. "Don't feel like you're abandoning me or anything."

"I am though. I'm abandoning you because things are about to get super-awkward and I don't want to be here."

No, really. It's fine. This is something I need to do myself. Lord knows I've been putting it off long enough."

"Well, as long as we're cool." I turned to Inga. "Was I at least convincing?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, absolutely, I was completely fooled until the end. You did a vonderful job."

"Thanks! Now, if you could submit a signed testimonial to that effect that I can use at my next audition…"

"Go!" Helga snapped.

"Oh, fine…" I patted her on the shoulder. "Good luck, Hellcat…" I whispered.


	4. The Moral of the Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Helga rights an old wrong.

Chapter 4

The Moral of the Story

Stavros's Diner

-HELGA-

"Vell," Inga remarked, "It has been qvite some time, hasn't it."

Well, that's an understatement, I thought to myself. "Yeah," I responded non-commitally, unsure of just how to begin this conversation. What the hell was I gonna do, blurt out "Why the hell are you living in a homeless shelter and working at this place and back in this country at all and how can I blame myself for it?"

"I trust you are doing vell," she continued. "How is your family?"

"Well, let's see…. My parents split up back in December and my dad lost his business."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. It's… kinda worked out really well for me, actually. They're happier apart than they were together,, and my relationship with them is better now than it was when they were married. So don't feel bad for me. I'm… kinda doing better than I ever was."

"I'm very glad to hear that. Despite vhat you may have thought, Helga… I alvays wanted vhat vas best for you."

"Yeah, I… guess I know that now."

We sat their silently why I sipped the tea she'd ordered for me. I actually hate tea, but I felt obligated to drink it for her sake. As if it was but one step in the penance I owed for what I had done.

"Why?" I finally asked.

"Vhy vhat?" she asked in return.

"Why… a lot of things, really. It's kind of a generalized why."

"Vell… vhy don't you choose one at a time and I'll try to answer."

"Okay… I guess… why are you back? I thought you were happy back in Switzerland. Why would you come back here? Did… did it follow you there? What I did?"

She took a long, slow sip of her tea. "No, dear," she finally said. "None of vhat happened there vas your fault."

"So… what happened?"

She sipped her tea again, as if trying to find the words. She looked pained. Weary. Far older than her thirty-seven years. As if she'd been through the wringer.

"I did return home," she said. "And I vas happy… for a time." She looked as though she was going to cry. I felt a knot forming in the first of my stomachs (I have three. Horrifying but true.). I wondered if I should continue to press.

"You, uh… you don't have to go on if you-"

"There vas a fire," she said. "I lost my sister, her husband, ze farm… everything… it was all lost…"

"I… I'm… I'm so sorry…" I stammered.

"No, child," she said. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing you did was responsible for my loss."

"But-"

"After the fire… I had nothing left. I could not stay there… it vas to painful. So I returned to ze only other place I ever knew. This city. I hoped I could start a new life here."

"How long have you been back?" I asked.

"About three weeks now," she said. "I vas unable to find vork as a nanny again…" yeah, no kidding, at least that I can blame myself for, "but I was able to get a job here and soon I will have enough saved to rent an apartment. So, really… you do not have to vorry about me."

"That's not true, though. If it wasn't for me, you'd be able to get a job as a nanny again… hell-"

"Language, Helga."

"…heck, you would never have had to have left in the first place. So, yeah… it really is my fault. Maybe not the fire, but everything else." I took another sip. Oh, god, I hate tea. "I ruined your life. And you did nothing do defend yourself. All you had to do was rat me out. It would be your word against mine. And well, you're a grownup and I had kind of a history."

"Helga, if I had just told your parents vhat you had done, you vouldn't have learned anything."

"But… that doesn't make any sense! I didn't learn anything!"

"I think you did, Helga."

"If I learned anything. I learned I could get away with it. Not one month later, I was trying to get my sister fired from her teaching job because it was cramping my style." I sighed. "Maybe if you had told on me, I would've learned something. I mean… clearly I was out of control back then. I needed discipline."

"If I had forced the lesson on you, it vouldn't have been taken to heart." She sighed. "You are not the only one who made mistakes. You vere a handful, yes, you needed discipline… but you also needed room to be who you are. I tried to shape you into an image of my own girlhood, and for that, I am sorry. I suppose part of the reason I did not 'rat you out' as you say, is because I realized on some level that I had failed vith you, and that at least partly, it vas my fault."

I was taken aback? After what I'd done, she was admitting that she shared some degree of guilt? What alternate timeline had I stumbled into? "No… no, you can't possibly be apologizing to me. I don't deserve it. Not after everything put you through. Not when you're in the gutter and I'm the happiest I've ever been! I don't deserve it! You… you don't… didn't… deserve this!" I could feel myself tearing up again. Why couldn't she just be mad at me, like a normal person? Why did she have to be a damn saint? "I was a bad person! Tell me I'm a bad person! Don't… try to make me feel better!"

"And vhat vould that accomplish?" she asked. "It seems to me you know you vere wrong. Simply telling you zat vould be meaningless now. As meaningless as you drinking zat tea zat you clearly hate."

"Was it that obvious?"

"You made a face every time you took a sip. Don't think I didn't notice."

"Well, y'know…" I pushed it away. "It probably comes out of your paycheck and I didn't want to be rude."

"Don't vorry abut it." she said. "Getting back to the topic, is that vhat you vanted from me?"

"Well… I guess… I mean, it would make sense. It's what Bob did when I stepped out of line… y'know, when he could be bothered to notice."

"Yes, I noticed," she replied. "I noticed many things. You vere an angry girl, Helga… but you had reason to be angry. And I vanted to help you, but I vent about it the wrong vay. I should have been there to listen, not to push."

"…a… little push wouldn't've been so bad." I admitted.

"Perhaps not." She smiled. "And yet… I sense zat you are not ze same girl I left two and a half years ago."

"I've… been through a lot of changes," I agreed.

"Yes, I can see that. I can see the mature young woman you are becoming."

"Not that mature. I mean, I was just in the middle of a zany scheme a few minutes ago."

"Because you vere vorried about someone else. You have changed, Helga. You are no longer motivated entirely by selfishness. That alone makes me feel like my time vith you vas not vasted."

"I just wish there was something I could do to help you out. You shouldn't be here."

"Really, Helga, you don't have to trouble yourself."

"Look, it doesn't matter that you don't hold anything against me. I'm still the reason you can't get a job as a-"

And then I realized it. I knew a family that needed a nanny. One that I had a bit of sway with.

"I think I might be able to get you a new job," I said.  
\--  
So now, here we were in the Lloyd's parlor, Buckley and Brooke facing down Inga as they grill her on her qualifications.

Rhonda and I waited in the adjacent room, her cradling Rhia as she peaked in.

"How's it going?" I asked, leaning in, evading Rhia's pudgy little hand as it went for my nose again. "And what is with your sister's obsession with my nose?"

"I think she likes you," Rhonda teased. "As for the interview, it looks like it's going well… uh oh."

"What uh oh."

"Daddy just checked his phone and got a scary look, that kind of uh oh."

We listened in closer. "Ms. Perlmutter," Rhonda's father was saying, "when Miss Pataki gave me your name, I took the liberty of running a background check. And it seems I've turned up something rather alarming."

"Buckley, darling, I don't really care if she had a drug arrest in her teenage years. I'm at my wits' end and we really need the help," Brooke interrupted. "Besides, it's not like our pasts are entirely clean." She smirked. "I was quite the hellraiser during my Paris days."

"I'm afraid this isn't the kind of thing we can ignore. It seems that the reason Ms. Perlmutter was terminated from her previous position was due to the fact that she was caught stealing from her employer."

"Well… that is troubling," Brooke admitted. "We couldn't possibly hire her if that was true, could we."

"Vell," Inga said, beginning to get up, "I'm sorry to have vasted your time then."

"Oh, hell no," I said, pushing my way past Rhonda. "You are not going to take the fall again!"

"Helga, we're trying to conduct an interview here," protested Buckley. "If you have something to say-"

"Oh, you'd better believe I have something to say," I said. "Inga never stole a damn thing. I framed her. Yeah, that's right. It was me. I didn't like her style of discipline, so I hid my dad's prize belt buckle in her room so she'd be accused of stealing it. And I felt pretty good about it at the time, because I was kind of a crappy person back then. But I can't just sit by and let her name keep getting dragged through the mud here. This woman is crazy qualified. If you don't hire her because of a mistake I made, you'd be making an even bigger mistake. Now, if you'd like, you can forbid me from ever entering your house again. I probably deserve it."

"Thank you, Helga," Inga said. "Zat vas a very brave thing to do."

"Well, in light of Helga's... confession," Brooke interjected, "I would be very proud to offer you the position of Rhiannon's nanny. You officially start Monday. We'll discuss your compensation and benefits over the next few days."

"And I vould be proud to accept the position," Inga agreed, shaking their hands. "Thank you very much."

I took the opportunity to try to sneak out of the mansion, but Rhonda caught me in the foyer.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" she demanded.

"Oh, you know… I figured I'd get out before I got thrown out."

"Oh, don't worry about that. They know I'd never let them hear the end of it if they did that. Actually, there's something I've been wanting to ask you…"

"If it's about giving you back the wig, I told you, I've got this great idea for pranking Oskar, and that wig is an essential part of the plan."

"Not that. Actually, I'm not sure if I have the authority to ask you this… or if it's even a thing to begin with, but… I want you to be Rhia's godsister."

"Um… gee," I responded, unsure. "That's kind of a big deal, isn't it. You sure you don't want to ask Nadine?"

"Well, like I said, I'm not sure if it's even a thing to begin with, and besides… Nadine might be her sister-in-law anyway someday. Besides, she likes you."

"You mean she likes that my nose is big enough to grab. Well… I guess if Inga's gonna be her Nanny, she's gonna need a bad influence like me so she doesn't get too prissy."

"That's the spirit. You like that, Ri-Ri? You want Helga to be your godsister?" The infant gurgled appreciatively.

"You know she doesn't understand a single word you're saying, right?" I reminded her.

"Shhh, let me have my fun," she replied.  
\--  
One week later

I had decided to give Inga a few days to settle in before I checked up on her. No point in being intrusive.

I rang the doorbell. Carson let me in, which was a good sign; if I'd been banned, he'd've turned me away at the door. I found Inga dusting in the parlor, humming "Edelweiss" to herself.

"Uh… hey, Inga," I said.

"Oh, hello, Helga," Inga replied cheerfully, as if everything had just been water under the bridge. "If you are looking for Rhonda, I believe she is getting her hair done."

"Actually, I'm here for you. I wanted to give you something." I pulled the item in question out of the plastic bag I was carrying.

She accepted the pillow I was offering. "I… didn't think you vere going to finish this. You vere never very interested in needlepoint."

"Yeah, well… I wasn't. I worked on it for a little while after you left, but I never really finished it…. not until last week. I know I kinda messed up the stitching in a few parts, but…"

"The important thing is that you finished vhat you started, dear," she replied, smiling. "I vould be glad to accept your gift."

"Yeah…. So now that's out of the way, I want you to admit something to me."

"And vhat vould that be?" she asked innocently.

"This whole thing, where you wouldn't admit that I framed you… this was just one big scheme to play to my guilt and get me to confess, wasn't it? Some kind of Mary Poppins gambit to get me to do the right thing on my own."

"I honestly have no idea vhat you're talking about," Inga replied.

"Suuuuure you don't. Well… it clearly worked, so congratulations."

"To be honest, Helga… I don't think you needed a push at all. I think you're a better person than you vant to admit. You put up zis front of being cold and uncaring, but you are someone who feels very deeply, aren't you."

"Hey, if that's what you want to tell yourself…" I smiled. "…look, just don't let it get around, okay?"

"There is one thing that I'm not to clear on, though… just how vas it zat you knew I vas back in town?"

Ohhh, crap. How the hell was I going to explain this? I couldn't exactly tell her, given that the whole point of a secret identity is the whole "secrecy" thing. I needed to make something up….

"Um… well, actually… it just so happens Rhonda volunteers at the same shelter you were staying at. So, I heard it from her."

"Yes, I've seen here zere. You know, it's funny that she recognized me, considering I only met her once."

"Hey, y'know… maybe you just made a really good impression on her."

"I suppose that's a possibility. The funny thing is… a few days before ve met, I vas assaulted by a group of street hooligans, and a young lady, about your age, vith blonde hair, came to my rescue. Of course, that young lady also had bright pink skin, wings, a tail, horns, and two sets of arms… so, clearly, she could not have possibly been you…"

"Well, you said it yourself, I don't have any of that stuff, so-"

"…of course, if you did, you would look qvite a bit like her, wouldn't you. But yes, I suppose it is a coincidence…."

"Total coincidence!"

"Vell, I'm glad ve could clear zat up," she said. "But… if you vere zis person… and I am not saying you are, but if you vere, I'm certain zat you vouldn't vant anyone to know… you should know zat your secret is safe vith me."

"Yeah, well, good thing that I'm not, then!" I said, hurrying out, pretty much convinced that she did in fact know and that I wasn't fooling anyone. Either I was really bad at protecting my identity or she really was the second coming of Mary Poppins.

THE END


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